Chương 403: Chapter 392 - The Hanging Oak

The world shifted. Alonso found himself standing on damp soil, the ground soft beneath his boots as if it had not seen sunlight in years. The air felt heavy, thick with moisture, carrying a faint metallic scent that did not belong to rain or rot. It lingered low and stubborn, like old blood soaked deep into the earth. The path ahead stretched forward in a narrow corridor of twisted growth, bordered by trees rising high along the sides, their trunks bent and contorted as though forced into unnatural shapes.

Overgrown roots coiled across the ground in tangled ridges, some thick as beams, others thin and snaking, forcing careful steps between them. Dark vines crawled up the bark and across the soil, hanging in loose strands in some places, tightening in others, their surfaces slick and thorned where they crossed the passage. The canopy above was so dense it swallowed most of the light, leaving the corridor dim and close. No wind moved here.

No sound reached them beyond their own breaths and the faint drip of moisture somewhere deeper within. Alonso glanced back as the others stepped inside, their gazes sharp as they took in the surroundings.

"Looks like some sort of Halloween version of the classical hedge maze," Lukas commented, hands loosely in his pockets, tone light, almost entertained.

"Maze? Isn't that a bit quick of a judgment?" Chiara pointed out, one eyebrow lifting as her attention scanned the twisted walls of growth.

"It is a maze," Pablo said after a moment.

"It was in the Guild's database."

"Oh." Chiara blinked.

"Right… I just skimmed it. Nevermind." She waved a hand dismissively, one of her minds already parsing the whole report, while the other lost interest. Alonso frowned. A maze, huh? He had received the briefing. Houston had read every word of it. He had chosen not to. Knowing what waited ahead felt like sanding down the edge of a blade before a fight.

"Alright. Shall we stick to the agreed arrangement?" Leonie said as she stepped forward, straight double-edged sword and kite shield already in hand. A few nodded. Lukas shrugged. Ayu rolled her shoulders. Alonso raised an eyebrow.

"Arrangement?"

"My sister graciously volunteered herself as squad captain," Lukas said with a faint grin. Before Alonso could react, Leonie met his gaze directly.

"We discussed it and concluded that a party of seven needs coordination," she said.

"No one was eager to take the role. I did." She adjusted her grip on the shield.

"That said, I do not intend to command you in battle. Your instincts and awareness exceed mine. If a decision must be made in the moment, you act. I will handle structure, positioning, and overall direction. If that is acceptable." There was no hesitation in her tone. Alonso nodded.

"Yeah. Works for me. If everyone's good with it, let's roll with it."

"Good," Leonie said. She turned to the group.

"Alright. I'm not sure all of you read the briefing on the Hanging Oak Dungeon. In any case, the layout consists of—""Maybe skip the breakdown," Alonso cut in casually.

"Sure, information helps. I'm not saying it doesn't. But I think adapting to the unknown tempers us better than walking the expected path." Leonie narrowed her eyes slightly, prompting him to continue.

"This is our first real Dungeon where the stakes are high enough that we actually have to function as a team. And well… we should take every chance we get to push ourselves. Raise the pressure. Grow under it. Easy runs make sloppy fighters. You get what I'm saying." They all stared at him for a moment. Lukas smiled, clearly amused. Ayu's lips curved with quiet approval. Pablo's gaze turned thoughtful. Leonie did not react immediately. She studied him, weighing his words more deeply than the rest.

"I understand," she said at last.

"Thank you for the advice, Alonso."

"Don't overthink it," he waved it off lightly.

"So, what's the plan?" Leonie looked ahead, eyes tracing the twisted corridor.

"Considering what you said, it's best we prepare from early to adapt to the unknown. We deploy only the force required. We reveal only what's necessary. We keep our reserves intact for as long as we can afford to. It's not the blade in the light that kills you. It's the one hidden in the dark after all." Her gaze shifted back to him.

"For that reason, you'll be our last line, Alonso. Engage only when you judge it necessary. Stay on standby if the others can manage. Regardless of our progress, you represent close to half of our full combat strength, if not more. You're our ace." Alonso nodded. The logic made sense. It was close to how he fought on his own. Show what was needed. Study. Adapt. Finish when it mattered.

"I'll coordinate from the rear and act as second reserve, engaging whenever needed," Leonie continued. She turned slightly.

"Imani and Pablo's summons will form the first line. Vanguard and tank roles. Imani holds aggro. Pablo supports as secondary tank and control. The second line will be Ayu and Chiara, our primary attackers. Depending on the enemy's resistance, we prioritise physical or wave-based engagement. Both engage together only if required. Lukas supports as he sees fit in whichever scenario arises." She turned to face them fully.

"Thoughts?"

"Sounds good."

"I agree."

"Works for me." A few nods. No objections.

"So then… shall we begin?" Imani stepped forward without another word, calm and steady, moving roughly fifty meters ahead of the group. Pablo tossed three orbs into the air. They shifted mid-flight, and three rock-like entities materialised from them, bodies formed of compact stone and reinforced joints, resembling crude golems. Alonso watched them with interest. It was unfortunate that Pablo's summons displayed no prompts. He was curious about their exact strength, though he doubted it was particularly high.

They originated from low-tier Dungeons, after all. At this stage, Pablo was likely using them as expendable frontliners, intending to replace them with stronger summons as they progressed through the run. The golems advanced, heavy steps pressing deep into the damp soil as they moved into position around Imani, forming a loose triangular formation. The formation was set. They advanced.

Pablo moved to the center of the formation, settling between Lukas and Chiara. Ayu took the right flank. Alonso drifted left. Leonie remained at the rear, shield angled, gaze sweeping. Imani advanced at the front, three stone constructs spreading around him in a loose wedge. Chorus of Thoughts had been active since the moment Pablo summoned the golems.

His mind was partitioned, three streams fused with the constructs, feeding him their weight against the soil, the resistance of humidity on stone, the tremors traveling through roots and damp earth. A fourth stream remained fully his own, clear and analytical, coordinating the rest without strain. The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation. It didn't take long for the first creature to emerge from the fog ahead. A Gallows Thrall. Humanoid, but wrong. Spine bent too far forward.

Skin stretched thin and bruised purple over knotted muscle. Long nails curved like hooks. It walked with a slight imbalance, almost pathetic. Then it accelerated. The shift was violent. One moment shambling, the next airborne. It spun mid-air and drove a heel into the leading golem's face. BOOM! Stone exploded outward. A sharp crack split the damp air as fragments blasted across the soil, dust and grit spraying over roots and boots before Pablo could even reinforce the structure.

The golem's head collapsed inward in a single catastrophic fracture. Large chunks of rocks scattered across the wet ground. Pablo did not panic. He knew even the weakest creature in a mid-tier Dungeon was stronger than the boss of a low-tier one. And he knew what to expect. He was prepared. He ran the Thrall's data through his mind, pulling from the database he had memorised, mapping likely vectors and follow-up patterns in layered projections that overlapped the real corridor ahead.

He sent a quick coordination pulse to Imani, outlining his plan in compressed visuals instead of words. A confirmation came back instantly. Imani adjusted without hesitation, boots grinding into damp soil as he shifted his weight and lowered his centre of gravity. Pablo drove the second golem forward hard and reckless, deliberately overcommitting to pull the Thrall's aggression vector.

The third construct swept across the creature's blind side, not to strike, but to cut off its retreat and force the engagement exactly where Pablo wanted it. The Thrall twisted again and launched a fist toward Imani's shield, claws screeching across metal as it connected. Impact! A dull thunder rolled through the corridor. Dirt jumped. Roots shuddered. Imani held.

At that exact moment, Pablo collapsed the third golem forward, slamming its mass between the Thrall and its escape route, blocking its vision for a fraction of a second. That was enough. Imani stepped in and delivered a compact, charged hammer strike at near point-blank range. BAM! The impact detonated through the Thrall's torso. Bone cracked. Rot burst outward. Damp soil erupted under the shockwave as the body split apart and crashed down in pieces before dissolving into motes, leaving only an orb behind.

Silence returned for a single breath. Pablo did not waste it. He seized the orb mid-air, guiding it before it could drift. The conversion lattice unfolded through his mind, unfamiliar patterns at first, then rapidly resolving as he processed the structure, musculature, and neural impulse mapping. He absorbed it, dissected it, reconstructed it. A new Thrall materialised from the orb. It stood motionless. Bound to him. He did not linger on the sensation. They advanced.

Another Thrall emerged from deeper within the maze. Then two more. Pablo began rotating engagements deliberately, sending his summon forward to clash while positioning Imani as anchor rather than primary damage. When a Thrall faltered, he pulled it back, allowed another to finish, then absorbed the orb and rebuilt. A second summon. Then a third. Three Thralls now moved under his control, their attacks staggered to deny enemy momentum.

He split micro-adjustments across his parallel minds, refining timing, altering stride lengths, repositioning for optimal flanking. He sacrificed one when necessary, detonating its cohesion to interrupt a leaping strike, immediately converting the released orb into another unit before the enemy could capitalize. They pressed deeper. The corridor narrowed. Roots thickened across the ground. Vines dragged low across the passage. More Thralls poured in. Five. Eight. Twelve. Pablo's breathing remained steady.

He no longer felt like the academic among warriors. He felt like the axis around which the skirmish rotated. Imani's hammer strikes became occasional punctuation rather than necessity. The summons absorbed, engaged, dismantled. And then the second wave arrived with a new enemy. Rootbound Drudges. Half-formed torsos fused to the earth, ribs cracked open where roots burst outward in writhing bundles. Vines lashed from their backs, whipping through the air with alarming speed. Three of Pablo's Thralls rushed in.

Vines snapped tight around their limbs, binding, pulling, crushing. Pablo assessed instantly. Two sacrifices. Block advance. Orb harvest. Reconstruct at higher density. He collapsed two summons simultaneously, forcing a surge of destabilized mass that disrupted the vine tension and staggered three incoming Thralls behind the Drudges. His remaining summon strained, half-entangled but still holding its ground, limbs cracking as roots coiled tighter around them.

The Drudges turned their vine-laced torsos toward him, hollow faces snapping in his direction as they prepared to finish it. And yet, in that instant, Pablo remained calm. He remembered that moment. The moment acceptance had dawned on him. Who was he? What was his path? What was his role in all of this? Did he deserve to stand here, part of humanity's hope, part of the strongest squad history had ever seen? He smiled. He was not sure. He was not a warrior.

He did not know martial arts or refined sword forms, and despite everything, his mind was not the sharpest among them either. He was just him. He was just… a scientist. A researcher. A scholar. And his path… had always been about understanding. … Or so he had thought. Behind him, space fluctuated, distorting as it resonated with his thoughts.

A massive ethereal structure unfurled around him, a towering double helix of interlocking slabs spiralling upward without visible end, luminous plates rotating, shifting, recombining in silent logic. Pablo lifted his gaze and extended a hand forward, almost casually. Two orbs floated from his pouch and began to rotate around his wrist, spinning faster, reflecting the pale glow of the helix. What is knowledge if it is never used to expand itself? What is reading if you never dare to write your own book?

I was taught to observe. To record. To understand. But understanding is not the summit. It is the root. My path grows from the soil of what I have learned. But it does not stop there. My path is not bound by knowledge. My path… is boundless. From one seed it blooms into a tree of infinite possibilities. From one branch, countless directions. From one idea, endless evolution. I do not preserve what exists. I extend it.

Come forth— Will Manifest— —Unlimited Mutations The helix flared brighter, slabs reconfiguring with a deep resonant hum. One of the orbs circling his arm cracked mid-rotation and shattered into motes of light. He parsed its dominant trait in an instant, mapped it onto the lattice, and linked it to the active summon. Ahead, the Thrall convulsed. From its back, wooden tendrils burst outward, snapping into existence with a wet, splintering sound. From the Vinehost, I grant you its control. The Thrall lunged.

Vines lashed forward, colliding with the Drudges' own writhing roots. Wood struck wood. Fibres tore. The corridor filled with the sound of snapping growth and grinding bark. The Drudges pressed harder. The summoned vines cracked under the pressure. Pablo stood still. The second orb shattered. The helix rotated again, slabs locking into a new configuration. The Thrall's flesh darkened. Its vines thickened, surface hardening, grain shifting into a cold, steel-like sheen.

From the Steel Hollows, I grant you their coating. Metal vines erupted forward, piercing through the Drudges' weakened tendrils, splitting them apart. Each vine bifurcated mid-thrust, spearing through hollow skulls, punching through torsos, pinning bodies against twisted trunks. The Drudges and the Thralls ahead fell in the same breath. Metallic vines had erupted from Pablo's summon, radiating outward from its core and spreading across the corridor like a living lattice.

They wove through roots and bark, glinting faintly in the dim light, droplets of dark fluid hissing as they struck the damp ground. A heartbeat later, every enemy ahead dissolved into motes, leaving behind a single orb and a lone piece of gear resting on the torn soil. Silence followed. Pablo felt the weight of their gazes settle on him. Especially Alonso's. He turned slightly and allowed himself a small smile. Alonso met his eyes and gave a single, firm nod, an acknowledgement that needed no embellishment.

Something shifted in Pablo's chest as he turned back forward. Not pride. Not arrogance. Something steadier. Warmer. A clarity that locked into place and refused to move. His mutated Thrall stood alone at the front of the corridor, metal vines retracting in slow, deliberate coils, steam rising where they had torn through damp soil and shattered roots. The path ahead remained dark. He no longer cared. This… is who I am.